


It's Okay

by shinysparks



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, But his disembodied head shows up though, But nobody liked her anyway, Except the red haired elf chick, M/M, Oh and Azog, Romance, This is not crack I swear, Thorin with battle wounds, brace yourself there may be cuddling, implied Dwalin/Cookies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-27 00:25:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2672024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinysparks/pseuds/shinysparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been nearly a year since the Battle of the Five Armies had ended, and Durin's Day had finally arrived again. Bilbo had been promised quite the celebration by the dwarves of Erebor, and they had come through on their word many times over. Thousands upon thousands of dwarves had filled the partially reconstructed halls under the mountain, throwing a celebration completely beyond belief. It was loud and raucous and involved more food than Bilbo had ever seen in his life. There was alcohol of every type, fine weed of every strain (along with a few mushrooms Radagast had sent, which had resulted in a few dwarves removing clothing and dancing on the tables - something that had, sadly, cost Bilbo most of his appetite;) and music and storytelling and dancing and fireworks. It was definitely something to remember, Bilbo thought.</p><p>He also couldn't help but smile this time. After all, their crazy party was rather fun when it was happening under someone else's roof. Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for Thorin, sitting at the head table in his finest clothes, feasting upon a bowl of tepid soup, and looking quite stunned by the celebration, indeed...</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Okay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Heyerette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heyerette/gifts).



> **A/N** : Please keep in mind I'm usually a crackfic/humor writer, so this is a new territory for me. ;) Also, this was inspired by a backfiring plot bunny I lobbed in Heyerette's direction involving a well-loved crochet blanket.

It had been nearly a year since the Battle of the Five Armies had ended, and Durin's Day had finally arrived again. Bilbo had been promised quite the celebration by the dwarves of Erebor, and they had come through on their word many times over. Thousands upon thousands of dwarves had filled the partially reconstructed halls under the mountain, throwing a celebration completely beyond belief. It was loud and raucous and involved more food than Bilbo had ever seen in his life. There was alcohol of every type, fine weed of every strain (along with a few mushrooms Radagast had sent, which had resulted in a few dwarves removing clothing and dancing on the tables - something that had, sadly, cost Bilbo most of his appetite;) and music and storytelling and dancing and fireworks. It was definitely something to remember, Bilbo thought.

He also couldn't help but smile this time. After all, their crazy party was rather fun when it was happening under someone else's roof ("and to someone else's plumbing," he added as an afterthought, remembering the state of his own toilet after the company had descended upon his home those many, many months ago.) Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for Thorin, sitting at the head table in his finest clothes, feasting upon a bowl of tepid soup, and looking quite stunned by the celebration, indeed.

Thorin had, by some miracle, survived the injuries he'd incurred during the battle; but, they'd left him weakened, and changed. Fili sat on the throne most days, effectively ruling Erebor in his uncle's stead. When Thorin did take his place, he was often listless and bored, his mind wandering here and there and randomly muttering things about trolls (along with a few profane comments about elves in Khuzdul.) Occasionally, he'd get a strange look in his eyes, mostly when someone presented him with a gift of gold. His blue-gray eyes would haze over, staring hungrily at the treasure as the sickness tried to take hold once again. But Bilbo was there, and he was vigilant, and oftentimes, all it took was a simple squeeze on the dwarf king's shoulder to snap him out of it. When that failed, Bilbo simply had to whisper "food and cheer, your highness," into the king's ear, for Thorin to wake himself up completely. He would thank his gift-giving subject in a manner that befit the King of Erebor, before nodding to Balin to fetch Fili once again. He would then head out of the throne room, with a finely dressed hobbit on his heels.

The dwarves of Thorin's company had been cautious, spreading the rumor that Thorin was simply grooming Fili for the throne - with Bofur adding that it was clearly high time that the King did so, given Fili's age and clear ineptitude at all things royal.This had not gone over too well with Fili, who had replied by throwing a heavy, golden bowl of chips at Bofur's head, knocking out at least one of his teeth. The whole thing ended with them all getting into a large brawl, and then getting themselves quite hammered on good dwarvish ale, and passing out on the table. Or below it. Or in the lap of one of Bombur's many wives (which lead to a few more altercations, a few more missing teeth and a lot more alcohol.)

Nonetheless, it had worked, and no one doubted the king, or his ability to rule. They never noticed his fleeting sickness - the unquenchable hunger for all things gold - or that the finely carved oak scepter he now carried (a birthday gift from Bilbo himself,) doubled as a cane that hid an injured leg, a leg that had never quite healed the way it should have. They never questioned his long absences, or the long, quiet, outdoor walks he took with his favorite halfling "advisor."

But now, it was Durin's Day - and the first holiday in Erebor since the wretched Smaug had visited upon them - and with it had come the cacophony of celebrating dwarves; the enormous feasts; the parties with loud music and bad, half-drunken singing; and of course, the lavish treasures that were bestowed upon the King under the Mountain from nearly every noble dwarf in the realm. Bilbo had watched Thorin start out strong, but quickly deteriorate as the afternoon wore on. Loud sounds began to startle him. He began to fiddle with the thin braids and silver beads that adorned his slowly growing beard, and then graduated to picking at the fine velvet that covered the arms of his chair. His eyes would glaze over, brightening to an almost electric blue as he eyed the golden dishes, the golden cups and the jewels that adorned the noble dwarves that sat around him. He wanted them. He wanted them all, to possess them... to _hoard_ them...

 _...All mine... my own... my precious..._ Said a faint whisper in the back of his mind...

"Walk with me." Bilbo whispered in his ear, snapping him out of it once again.  
"I cannot. It's Durin's Day. I must be here." Thorin whispered back, his voice almost pained as he forced himself to look away from the golden objects in front of him.  
"Thorin." Bilbo replied, staring into the king's cold bluish-gray eyes sternly. "Please."

Thorin stared into the hobbit's eyes for a moment - defiant, at first, and then relenting. He sighed, and his head fell, as he made a motion to grab onto his fine, oaken cane. As the king rose slowly from his seat, eyes still turned away from the mass of golden dishes that lie in front of them, Bilbo cleared his throat, catching Balin's attention. He then made a double wink at the white-haired dwarf, the agreed-upon signal to cover for the sudden absence of the king.

"Aye, laddie," Balin muttered, taking the hint, before turning to the crowd of dwarves around them to speak, "A king's work is never done, I'm afraid - not even on an auspicious and glorious day such as this. Come! Let's have a bit more ale, shall we? And you must hear the story of how we returned those sacred jewels to the Elf king of Mirkwood... with a catapult... and buried in dragon dung!"

Roaring laughter rang out through the cold, stone corridors as Balin went on to do an impression of King Thranduil's face after the dwarves of Erebor had rained literal shit down upon him; the thundering, echoing sound caused Thorin to wince, and stop, and lean into the wall. Bilbo chased after him, running as fast as his furry feet would carry him, and caught the king quickly enough. He placed his hand gently on Thorin's shoulder before opening his mouth to speak.

"Come on," he said at a whisper, "The sooner we get out of here, the better."

Another wave of raucous laughter erupted, causing Thorin to freeze in place. Bilbo sighed, and took the initiative. He wrapped his arm around the dwarf king as best he could manage, and using all of his strength, pulled him away from the wall and pushed him forward.

"Come on," he said a little louder, still tugging on Thorin, "It's okay. It's all okay..." 


End file.
